The last half-hour of the season-one finale of Bryan Fuller’s latest series American Gods, about old and new deities fighting for humanity’s allegiance, is so delightful that it made me unreservedly love it, rather than finding it, to quote Ian McShane’s Mr. Wednesday, “confused but intrigued,” which was my default landing place throughout much of its run. (No, I haven’t read Neil Gaiman’s source novel, and I have no plans to; adaptations have to stand on their own.) It’s not that this Starz blockbuster lacks for moments of terror, beauty, and wit. Its long, self-contained, theatrically shaped scenes are a welcome antidote to the exposition-packed trailers-for-themselves that dominate a lot of TV drama, and the show is so visually, sonically, and musically self-indulgent that its excesses are often funny and sometimes inspired.
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.